


Blame it on the Big Explosions

by oddmonster



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-26
Updated: 2010-11-26
Packaged: 2017-11-23 13:46:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/622836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oddmonster/pseuds/oddmonster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scotty is trying desperately not to say the wrong thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blame it on the Big Explosions

**Title:** Blame it on the Big Explosions  
 **Author:** [](http://oddmonster.livejournal.com/profile)[**oddmonster**](http://oddmonster.livejournal.com/)  
 **Word Count:** 700  
 **Genre/Rating:** Established rel/PG  
 **Notes/Warnings:** For [](http://katmarajade.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://katmarajade.livejournal.com/)**katmarajade** , who stays calm when people suddenly fall down.  
 **Summary:** Scotty is trying desperately not to say the wrong thing.

The closest Scotty's come to 'I love you' was a couple months ago, when some small orange sluglike things that reminded him of kippers landed a lucky shot in Engineering. He woke up in Sick Bay for what felt like the thousandth time, but this time, as soon as he registered Chekov's thin, cool hand in his own, fingers carefully twined, it made him feel...needed somehow, and daring. Chekov leaned closer, his face lighting up and fingers tightening. And Scotty opened his mouth to speak, wanting Chekov to know. He figured later, if he had to, he could always blame the drugs.

Luckily, before Scotty's mouth could go rogue on him, McCoy showed up at the foot of the bed and delivered a lecture on burns and post-injury infection, effectively killing all thoughts of romance.

Scotty'd lain there in the ozone-scented medroom and let the sawbones' voice wash over him while he stared at Chekov, watching the young ensign memorize all the after-care instructions. And the flush that crept up Chekov's neck at the "And absolutely no excessive physical exertion for the next 48 hours."

Scotty knew that flush well. Had watched it blossom across Chekov's chest and creep up his neck like a brushfire. He'd taken advantage of that flush and was fairly sure he'd worn one that matched more than a few times.

Apart from that, he's managed to keep himself fairly well in check.

He thinks it all the time, of course; whenever he's called to the Bridge; whenever Chekov stumbles over "covalence core"; whenever the two of them pass each other between shifts, like starships in the night. Chekov shoots him that wee smile under his curls, fingers clenching against his uniform trousers and it's all Scotty can do not to get on the ship's comm and start yelling it at the top of his lungs.

Finally, it gets to the point where he's carrying the words high in his chest, near the base of his throat, everywhere he goes. They burn in him like hot coals and it gets harder with every passing day to keep them in place. _You can't_ , he tells himself sternly. _The lad's eighteen. You'll scare him off._ And that last, more than anything else keeps him silent.

The two of them are bent over a console in Engineering one day, puzzling over Lorentz transformations when there's a sudden flash of light and heat behind them and the world breaks.

Scotty wakes up on the hard metal floor, one arm throbbing and the whole of his back on fire. An alarm is blaring and he's dizzy and everything smells like burnt dilithium and oil and there is no sign of Chekov.

What comes out of Scotty's mouth is a roar, then there are running feet and cool hands on him and darkness.

Sometime later, Scotty wakes up in Sick Bay yet again, feeling only mildly less dizzy. The smell of burnt dilithium is gone. But there is a thin, cool hand in his, fingers carefully twined, and when he opens his eyes, Chekov is sitting next to his bed, staring worriedly.

Overwhelmed with relief, Scotty opens his mouth, but what comes out is something like _Waazaaaooo_ , so he shuts it again.

Chekov nods. His eyebrows are gone and there's a patch of nanopores at his hairline but otherwise he's none the worse for wear. Except his eyes. There's something very wrong with his eyes. They're shiny and wet.

Scotty opens his mouth again, but Chekov rises and leaning over, kisses him gently. " _Nyet._ Don't try to speak," he says, sitting back down. His eyes get shinier. "I love you too much to see you waste your energy. You will need it for explaining how I was right about the parallel magnetic alignments, you stubborn Scottish man."

Scotty gives up and nods.

"Now rest," Chekov commands.

Scotty lies back on the pillow and closes his mouth.


End file.
